The Old James
by Pandorasbox917
Summary: Norington and Gillette reunite after DMC. However, James Norington is not quite how Gillette remembered him. NG Slash. Warnings: angst


Armand Gillette returned to his rooms exhausted after another day of pointless deskwork. All of the officers that had been close to the former Commodore, the ones that survived the hurricane anyway, had been regulated to writing letters and filling out forms. The law could not find James Norrington, so they settled for his remaining men.

Turning the key, he was surprised to find the door already unlocked. His hand went immediately to his sword hilt as he pushed the door open. A light came from underneath the door of his bedroom. Cautiously, the redhead walked across the small sitting room. Before he could reach the bedroom however, the door swung open, revealing a rather dirty and scruffy personage.

James Norrington.

Gillette's hand fell from his sword as he stared in shock at the apparition. He had long given up hope of finding James alive, yet the man in front of him seemed to be living.

"Hello Armand."

It was the same old voice, but the tone was bitter, twisted. The eyes that met his own were not soft and caring like Gillette remembered. Instead they were hardened with anger.

"James. How is it, why are you, what is going on?"

The man before him smirked a bit, holding out his arms.

"What is wrong Armand? Not what you expected?"

In the end, it was the condescending words that caused Gillette to snap out his stupor.

"You bastard. Where have you been?"

"Where have I been? Tortuga. It was the only place left to go after you turned back for Port Royal, tail firmly between your cowardly legs."

The resounding smack sated Gillette's rage slightly.

"I'm the coward? I'm not the one who risked everything to prove that it wasn't a mistake to let Jack Sparrow go!"

James didn't appear bothered in the slightest by Armand's raised voice.

" I didn't see you coming after me. Or did you think that they would promote you in my absence?"

This time the former commodore caught Gillette's hand mid swing.

"Come now, Armand, let's settle this like proper Englishmen. Save the slapping for your fellow French bastards."

With his free hand Gillette shoved Norrington into the door jam.

"You could have come back _months_ ago. Long before Beckett showed with his papers. But you didn't! How was I supposed to know that you survived that hurricane?"

James released Armand's hand from its hold, but he didn't respond.

"What stopped you James? Your shame? Couldn't you face all the widows, the wives of your lost men? You couldn't find it in your heart to come back to _me_?"

"Why would you have wanted me to?"

Had the circumstances been any different, the pained whisper would have been enough for Armand to take his former lover in his arms and forgive him everything. As it was, it rekindled his anger. Grabbing a hold of James' arm, Armand dragged him into the bedroom.

"Why? I'll show you why."

He pushed James down onto the bed, not wanting to think of why Norrington wasn't fighting back. Gillette ripped off the filthy shirt and was only just able to stop himself from staring. He could see every rib lining James' torso. The once strong arms were now skeletal, having lost any sort of muscle tone they used to have.

James Norrington couldn't fight back.

Gillette began to unfasten the breeches that were now much too large for James, pausing when he heard the answering grunt. That might have been a groan of pleasure at one time. Armand met his lover's eyes again, and saw a momentary flicker of something familiar.

If this was the way to reach James, so be it.

Pushing aside any thought of propriety and morality, Gillette slid the remainder of James' clothes from his body. He claimed the chapped lips in a fierce kiss, hoping to remind him of what they once had. Finally, after a few moments, Norrington began to respond. He broke away, staring at Gillette intently.

"Make me remember. Help me to feel.."

Armand silenced his lover's whisper by kissing him again. James was now starting to push at Armand's clothes, once he had disposed of the itching wig. He ran his bony fingers through the red hair, clenching the roots tightly.

In a flurry of limbs and breaking buttons, both men found themselves naked. Armand pulled back to examine James. The other man was running a finger down the Frenchman's defined stomach, a look of pure envy coming over his face.

There was no way around it. Armand needed to act now.

He glanced at his bedside table, the drawer still containing a vial of oil. Another look at the hardened smirk, and the idea was forced from his mind.

Gillette, without any preparation, began to push into his former commanding officer.

James hissed, but threw his head back in what Armand hoped was pleasure. The lieutenant paused halfway in, revelling in how tight his lover was. He pulled back slightly.

"Too much?"

Blue-green eyes fluttered open.

"Not enough."

Feeling the ghost of a smile threatening, Armand began to slowly thrust back in.

James groaned, a proper one this time. When Armand stopped to allow the other man a moment to adjust, he growled.

"Feel free to move any time now."

A bark of laughter and Gillette slammed into him. James yelped, but gripped Armand's hips harder.

"More?"

"_More._"

Norrington didn't last long. The pain coupled by the sheer relief that he was back in Armand's bed brought about his swift release. The younger man followed not long after, collapsing on top of James' chest. After a few moments, he pulled out. Norrington closed his eyes, but opened them again when Gillette cursed.

Armand stared down at the sheets in horror. Small drops of blood had begun to stain, and Gillette released what harm he had done.

"J-James-"

"It's fine Armand. Don't worry about it."

"You're _bleeding_."

"It's fine. Tells us both I'm still alive."

Gillette sighed, but kissed Norrington's forehead. Much to the former commodore's dismay, the other man climbed out of bed and began to dress.

"Where are you going?"  
" To get you some food. Rest a bit, but then you are taking a bath. You reek."

It was the same old Armand. And as James closed his eyes once more, both hoped that he would return to being the same old James.


End file.
